“The local lawman left just a few minutes ago,” the scar-faced man said as he spit on the pitted dirt road next to the carriage that pulled up next to him. “I wasn’t sure he was ever going to leave.”
“And the young woman?” the dark figure sitting in the back of the carriage asked. “She is still inside?”
“Yes. She looked right at me,” the man replied, shifting from one foot to the other in unease. “She didn’t look like she was scared either.”
A chilling silence met his response. “Did you get the items I asked for?” the man in the carriage finally asked.
“Yes,” the man replied. “But I don’t feel good about burning down a holy place. I can kill a man or that young woman if you want, but burning down some Sisters and a bunch of kids just don’t sit right with me.”
Walter Randolph sat forwa
